


Spit Ball

by gracefulally



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Baseball, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulally/pseuds/gracefulally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When there's downtime on the Teen Wolf set, wiffle ball ensues</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spit Ball

The thing about filming was that there was always a lot of downtime due to the hurry-up-and-wait nature of preparing for a scene. The reasons for a temporary halt in production were various and on the first shoot of the day, they were usually numerous. Cameras had to be positioned, lighting had to be set, props were moved, and so on. For an actor, this time was just another chance to run through lines, catch a nap, touch up hair and makeup, or get in a quick game of wiffle ball, as the case might be.

Yellow plastic bat held firm, but not too tight in his grip, Tyler took his stance and cracked his neck, standing several yards across set from Dylan, who was rolling a white, thin-plastic ball between his hands as he stared at the ceiling, watching one of the techs on a catwalk.

“Come on, quit looking at his ass!” Tyler called out before he swung the bat out several times to check his body line, feeling the twist of the swing in his entire body as he followed-through.

Dylan scoffed and continued to watching as he tossed the ball from hand-to-hand. “I’m concerned about that ass falling on my head, alright?” he explained with a shake of his head. “Self-preservation. That’s all.” A pause. “Though, it is a nice ass…”

“Then take a picture,” Tyler said as he took another check swing.

Dylan chuckled and finally dropped his gaze back to Tyler. At first, Dylan’s expression went from amusement to utter bewilderment. Then, Tyler twisted his grip on the bat as he ground his sneaker into the floor and readied for the first pitch. That’s when Dylan doubled over with a hoot of laughter.

“What’s funny?” Tyler demanded.

“You—You’re just so—It’s wiffle ball, man,” Dylan cracked between titters.

Rolling his eyes, Tyler started to lower his arms. “Actually, it’s just me swinging a bat right now,” he pointed out before giving a low, golfing swing of the bat and settling into his stance once more. “Come on, give me something to hit.”

Dylan immediately lobbed the ball across the set. The throw was high and way inside, clearly aimed for Tyler’s head. Tyler ducked and followed the ball with his eyes as Dylan snickered.

“Good eye!” Dylan called out as Tyler went to retrieve the ball as it bounced away.

Catching up to the ball while it was still rolling, Tyler got ahead of it and golfed it back in Dylan’s direction. “Try again. I’d like to hit it with the bat before it hits the ground this time,” he said as he walked back and struck his stance.

Dylan bent to scoop up the ball and a look of epiphany overcame him. “Oh. You want to hit it with a bat? Like, that one you’re holding?” He was pointing in Tyler’s direction, like he was looking for clarity. “See, I figured since we’re being serious and authentic about this, like it’s baseball, I should aim for your face since it’s the most wooden thing I see over there.”

“Ha,” Tyler huffed as his expression flattened while Dylan grinned.

“Okay, okay,” Dylan conceded and raised up like he was readying to throw the ball. “Batter up…”

Tyler tensed for the pitch as Dylan wound his arm. Tyler then watched as the ball soared so far outside that it bounced off a passing wardrobe assistant.

“Sorry!” Dylan called out with a grimace and raise of his hand as the culprit. “Shouldn’t have brought the heat,” he sighed after jumping to the catch the ball as it was tossed back to him.

“The heat?” Tyler repeated with a short laugh. “You’re bringing the heat to wiffle ball?”

“I always bring the heat,” Dylan deadpanned. “I’m the master of heat bringing. Legendary even. They call me ‘Bon’—‘Bonfire.’ It’s on Wikipedia. Just check.”

“I’m good, man. Less talking and more throwing the damn ball.”

“You are so bossy today.”

“Method acting,” Tyler explained. “Have to get into the alpha mindset.”

Dylan snorted a laugh. “So, you gonna bite me if I keep stalling?”

“I don’t know, Bon, I might burn my tongue if I try.”

“Biting and tonguing?” Dylan’s brow rose. He then swiftly turned and whipped the ball over the set wall, throwing his fists in the air when it disappeared.

“Asshole,” Tyler huffed.

Dylan spun back with an impish look on his face before fluttering his eyelids and twisting on the toe of one shoe. “Oh no, it’s the big, bad Hoechlin. Please, don’t bite me,” he mocked as Tyler approached.

“One of these days, O’Brien, one of these days…” Tyler said as he shook the bat in Dylan’s face and kept walking.

“Where are you—?”

“To get the damn ball,” Tyler interrupted.

“Method acting, right? Need to fetch the toy like a good wolf would,” Dylan said with an understanding nod.

“No, need to go apologize because someone’s probably wondering why they got whacked in the head with a plastic ball.”

“Hey, you’re the one that brought tonguing to the plate.”

“You wish.”

“Every moment of every day. It’s my mission from God: get tongued by Hoechlin.”

Tyler’s expression pinched as he laughed. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“No more words,” Dylan said in a mock-breathless tone as brushed up against Tyler. “Lick me, baby,” he said with a lusting, needy expression. He sniffed Tyler before seeming to chew his words, “Just put your tongue all over my face. Lick it. Cover me in drool.”

Tyler’s lips rolled together, holding back a laugh, as he nodded. “Impressive.”

Expression brightening, Dylan backed off. “And seductive, right?” He laughed when Tyler side-eyed him. “Ah, come on! Werewolves totally have a drool fetish.”

Tyler’s brow knitted. “That’s a new one to me.”

“I’d let you spit in my mouth if it got you more into character,” Dylan said with a shrug.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just put that image in my head,” Tyler replied with a grimace.

“Spit strings…”

“Stop.”

Dylan grinned. “Aren’t you glad we had this conversation?”

“The things you learn about a person while playing wiffle ball,” Tyler sighed.


End file.
